


One-Night Stand

by CitrusVanille



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mating Bond, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-26
Updated: 2006-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolves mate for life. What are the consequences of a night of drinking?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The brilliant mid-winter sunshine spread across the grounds of Hogwarts as it did every dawn. The freshly-fallen snow glittered in the new light. Gradually, the golden beams crawled up the castle walls, glinting on windows, filling rooms.

In the common room of Gryffindor Tower, the bodies strewn across the floor and furniture began to stir as the sunlight hit their eyes, whimpering in pain as their tender heads began to pound. Most of them wanted nothing more than to turn over and go back to sleep, but term had ended the day before, and the train back to London left early from the Hogsmeade station.

The light continued to effortlessly climb the walls of the tower to flood the room at the very top: home of Gryffindor’s male seventh year students. It crept across the floor and peeped between drawn curtains into three empty beds before reaching the fourth bed with red curtains pulled tightly closed. Only a single sunbeam managed to sneak through a slit in the draperies, conveniently falling across the closed eyes of the tawny-haired boy sleeping within.

The boy shifted, trying to get away from the intruding brightness. He turned on his pillow, and wound up with a face full of hair. With a groan, he forced one eye open, then, unsure of what he was looking at, the other. Even with both eyes open, the hair in his face was definitely black. That couldn’t be right. He closed his eyes again, turning away from the inexplicable black hair on his pillow, deciding he was too hung over to worry about it at the moment. The sun burned into his eyelids once more.

With a great effort, the tawny-haired boy rolled over, away from the evil beam of fire. Something was wrong. His bed was moving slightly underneath him, and it felt strangely like a person.

He forced his eyes open again, and, through the haze that swirled around him, he made out two legs, a torso, two arms, and a head with shoulder-length black hair. That explained the black hair on the pillow, and it was definitely a person, so there was nothing wrong with the bed. That settled, the golden-brown eyes slid shut once more and the tawny head slumped onto one of the bare shoulders of the dark-haired boy, preparing once more for sleep.

The dark-haired boy stirred beneath his bedmate, and one of his arms wrapped around the tawny-haired boy, caressing the bare skin of his back. The tawny-haired boy sighed comfortably, snuggling closer.

A split-second later, the golden-brown eyes snapped open again and their owner yanked out of the other boy’s hold so hard he went tumbling through the curtains and off the bed, landing hard on the floor with a cry of surprise. His head and stomach screamed at him for the sudden movement, and the rest of his body clamored a protest at the rough landing. Some bogged-down thought told him it wasn’t just the fall that had caused the strange soreness he was feeling, but he was too busy fighting down his rebellious stomach to pay any attention.

The black-haired head, followed by a neck and lightly tanned shoulders, appeared over the edge of the bed, grey eyes blinking blearily down at the boy on the floor. “Remus?” he asked, voice scratchy.

Remus, judging it best to keep his mouth shut until he was certain of his control over his innards, didn’t respond.

“What are you doing on the floor?” the dark-haired boy asked. He blinked, looking confused, then changed his question. “What were you doing in my bed?”

Remus, assured his stomach wouldn’t revolt immediately, croaked, “My bed, not yours,” and clamped his lips together again.

The confused look deepened. “What am I doing in your bed?” Grey eyes slowly traveled over Remus’s naked form, then widened and darted back up to meet golden-brown. “No.”

Remus didn’t have a chance to question the dark-haired boy. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he managed to say, then, despite the loud objections of his body and head, he bolted for the bathroom just in time.

Cool hands soothed Remus’s hot skin as he emptied his stomach, keeping his hair out of his face, and rubbing comforting circles on his back. When the brown-eyed boy was finished, the dark-haired boy handed him a glass of water to rinse out his mouth, then carefully wiped his face for him with a damp washcloth.

“Thanks, Sirius,” Remus whispered, looking down, unable to meet the grey eyes in front of him. Belatedly, he realized they were both still completely nude. He grabbed a pair of towels from one of the shelves and thrust one towards the dark-haired boy, wrapping the other tightly around his own waist.

Sirius stared at the towel in his hand for a long moment, as though unsure what it was for, then copied Remus in winding it around his waist.

Neither boy looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. A very _long_ eternity.

Finally, Sirius broke the silence. “We… we didn’t…” he bit his lip and met Remus’s eyes. “Did we?”

Remus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t want their friendship to be ruined. “Just because we woke up naked and in bed together doesn’t necessarily _prove_ sex was involved,” he muttered.

“It does, however, make for a very strong case,” Sirius pointed out. He was fidgeting with a lock of his hair.

Remus nodded, and wished he hadn’t: his head still hurt.

“Do you remember anything?” Sirius asked.

“I remember James suggesting we have a party after dinner to celebrate end of term,” Remus replied slowly. “And I remember sneaking down to the kitchens for food with Peter and Lily while you and James went to Hogsmeade to get drinks. And I remember music, and food, and drinking,” Remus gingerly rubbed his temples. “Lots of drinking. And then we all played suck-and-blow, and I think I kissed Lily, and we kissed, and then we all played spin-the-bottle, and we kissed again, and then you kissed Lily, and Lily kissed Frank Longbottom, and James got mad, but then he kissed Alice after _she_ kissed Frank, and then I kissed James, and then _we_ kissed again, and then…” Remus blinked, trying to think. “It’s all kind of blurry after that. I think we kept playing. I _know_ we kept drinking. I remember us kissing again, but I can’t remember if we were still playing… we must have been, because otherwise, why would we be kissing?” The little part of Remus’s brain that was not preoccupied with the hammers banging away inside his skull made itself heard at that point, stating that _it_ could come up with _several_ reasons why they might have been kissing, but Remus told it to shut up, because the dark head was nodding in agreement.

“Yeah,” Sirius murmured. “Must have still been playing. Do you… do you remember anything else?” he sounded unsure about something.

Remus started to shake his head, but stopped, wincing. “No,” he confessed. “I can’t. You?”

“No,” Sirius said, a little too quickly.

“So.”

“So.”

“I thought you didn’t forget things when you got drunk.”

“I drank more than I usually do,” Sirius muttered, examining the tiles under his bare feet.

“Oh.” Remus thought Sirius looked a little pinker than usual, but ignored it as a figment of his imagination – or his still-aching head. “So how do we…”

“Are you ok?” Sirius suddenly asked, looking up.

Startled, Remus nodded, then winced again. “Well, my head hurts like a bitch, but throwing up helped my –”

“No, I mean,” Sirius was definitely going red, “I mean, erm, _physically_.”

“My head –”

“No,” Sirius cut him off again. “I mean, you’ve never, you know, _had sex_ with a guy before, have you?”

“ _What_? No! I’ve never…” Remus stopped, and swallowed. “Er, I’ve never had sex with anyone.”

“Oh, right. Ok.”

 _Am I just imagining it, or does he look relieved?_ Remus wondered.

“Well then, um…” Sirius was looking everywhere but at Remus, and not only was his face bright red, but the color was creeping down his neck.

Remus suddenly saw the small discoloring just beneath the dark-haired boy’s jaw-line and the memory of putting it there flashed before his eyes – of Sirius offering up his throat to Remus’s mouth and the small sounds of pleasure that the grey-eyed boy had emitted as Remus had marked him…

“Areyousore?” Sirius’s rapid question broke into Remus’s thoughts.

“What?” Remus asked.

“Are you sore?” Sirius repeated, more slowly. “If we… you know… then you’d be a bit…” he trailed off.

“Oh.” The bogged-down thought of much earlier made another appearance, struggling out of the mire of Remus’s mind to say, _I_ told _you that you didn’t feel like that because you fell off your bed._ “Then we… then we…” _Oh no,_ groaned most of Remus’s brain. _Not good. This is_ not _good._ But some little part was jumping around and dancing for joy, which wasn’t helping the largest part, which was still hammering away like it was trying to construct a second Great Wall.

“You are?” Sirius was looking at Remus now, and his face, though still red, was flooded with concern. “Is it bad? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Remus shook his head, and flinched. _Got to stop doing that._ “No, and no,” he told the worried-looking boy. “I’m just very hung over.” – And suddenly very aware that Sirius had somehow gotten much closer, and they were both dressed only in towels.

Footsteps and voices sounded on the stairs outside their room.

Remus panicked, hangover pains forgotten in his terror. “Oh, _shit_! James and Peter! I thought they must have gone home already! But it’s still too early! They were just downstairs! _What do we do_?”

“Breathe,” Sirius instructed, and suddenly soft-but-slightly-callused hands were gripping Remus’s shoulders. “Calm down.”

Remus tried. It was hard to focus with Sirius’s hands against his skin.

“We don’t have to tell them anything, if you don’t want.”

“But –”

“We were drunk, Rem.”

Remus felt his insides melt at the sound of the nickname only Sirius used, and failed to grasp what the other boy was saying.

“It didn’t… it didn’t mean anything. Ok?” Sirius continued. “We were drunk. We’ll just pretend like nothing happened. We’ll just forget about it.”

 _But I don’t_ want _to forget about it!_ Remus’s mind wailed. _I want to_ remember _it! And I can’t even do that._

The sound of the dorm door opening reached them.

“You get in the shower,” Sirius instructed. “It’ll help your hangover. I’ll make sure they don’t find my clothes in your bed or anything, and then I’ll get a quick shower myself. I’ll have a hangover potion ready for you when you get out.”

Sirius didn’t wait for Remus to answer. He left the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and Remus could hear him greeting their two roommates.

Remus turned on one of the showers. He hung his towel on the hook outside the stall, and stepped under the jetting water. The hot spray mixed with the hotter tears that Remus couldn’t keep from leaking out of his eyes and sliding down his cheeks.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

Remus Lupin sat curled up by the window of his dorm room, watching the heavily falling sleet trace patterns down the panes as it melted on contact with the glass. The evening sky had darkened to steel grey, and the color made his chest hurt.

“Moony?” the hesitant voice from the doorway made Remus turn, and his eyes met a pair that matched the outside skies exactly. “I brought you some tea.” Sirius cautiously approached the window seat and tentatively offered the steaming mug to the younger boy. “A spoonful of honey and a tiny bit of milk, just the way you like it.”

“Thanks,” Remus murmured, accepting the mug. He sipped and sighed appreciatively.

Golden-brown eyes turned back to the streaming window, wondering if his mood was really a reflection of the weather, or if, perchance, it was the other way around. He doubted both possibilities.

Heat radiating from nearby made Remus turn away from the window to see Sirius still hovering scarcely a foot away. He raised a light brown eyebrow with what felt like an excessive amount of effort.

“Is the tea all right?” Sirius asked in response to the questioning look. He was nervously twisting a lock of long black hair between his fingers.

Remus tried to smile, but found he couldn’t. “Yes,” he said instead. “It’s very nice.”

Sirius continued to stand where he was, fidgeting. It wasn’t like him. He’d been behaving very oddly since That Night. He was anxious and antsy, unable to stay still. He’d been overly attentive, even more so than he was around the full moon. Remus had found it sweet that first day (perhaps bittersweet was a better term), when Sirius had been getting him food and tea or juice from the kitchens and books from the library, insisting that Remus just relax, but now, three days later, it just hurt. He wasn’t sure why, he’d learned to deal with his crush on his best friend years ago, but now… Now it was killing him to be so close to what he wanted, what he _needed_ , when he knew he couldn’t have it. Now he knew what he had been missing, what he _would_ be missing, and the knowledge was almost more than he could stand. Memories of That Night had been coming back in bits and pieces, taunting him with images and sensations that he craved to taste again. He felt like the wolf he turned into one night every month, trapped and restless and hungry.

Remus felt sick, like some part of himself was missing, and Sirius’s constant presence was like a persistent reminder that he would never be whole again, while at the same time it felt like that missing piece had found him again, only to be torn away as soon as Sirius left the room. Remus didn’t understand it.

“– get you anything?” Sirius was asking.

“What?” Remus came back to the present with a painful jolt.

“Do you want anything?” Sirius asked. He was still fiddling with his hair.

 _You,_ Remus thought, and wondered if he’d been acting as unlike normal as Sirius was. “No,” he lied. “Nothing.” He turned back to the window, vaguely feeling the desire to howl at the bleak sky.

He could still feel Sirius standing beside him and wanted nothing more than to throw himself into the dark-haired boy’s arms. Somehow, he felt like the effort needed to do that would be less than what it was taking to merely keep breathing.

Melted sleet trickled faster and faster down the window as the still-frozen pellets fell faster and faster from a sky the color of grey eyes. It seemed the heavens wept icy tears from a frozen heart, and Remus wished his heart would freeze as well. Numb the pain.

Seconds ticked by into minutes. Remus was unsure how long he remained sitting in the window seat, staring out. At some point Sirius left, though where he went Remus did not know. He mourned the loss of the little bit of heat he could feel from the distance of friendship, and never noticed the drops of salt water tracing patterns down his cheeks to match the designs already outlined on the glass before him.

 

 

– – – – –

_It was night. Cold. No longer sleeting, but still misty and wet. Remus stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, staring up at the red-lead sky through the skeletal branches of the bare trees._

_He was waiting._

_A hand on his shoulder made him jump and spin around so quickly he almost lost his balance._

_White teeth flashed in the semi-darkness as Sirius smiled._

_Remus wondered briefly why he hadn’t heard the other boy approach, but then Sirius was pointing, and Remus turned, staring along the line of trees back towards the castle._

_Several yards away from where the two boys stood, two dark figures slipped out of the trees and broke into a run. They were low to ground, running on four legs, tails streaming out behind them. Remus wasn’t sure if they were dogs or wolves, but both were definitely canine._

_They came closer to where the boys stood. One was a large tawny wolf, but there was something wrong with it, something very wrong; its tail was tufted, and the shape of the snout was off somehow… Remus gave a silent gasp as he realized it wasn’t a real wolf at all, but a werewolf. But… but tonight wasn’t a full moon. Somehow, though, he wasn’t frightened, and, beside him, Sirius was completely unfazed._

_The other canine was a dog, large and black, almost a shadow in the half-light. With a shock, Remus realized the dog looked exactly as Sirius did when he transformed. In fact, Remus would swear it was Sirius transformed – he would know that black dog anywhere – except for the fact that Sirius the human was standing beside him, still resting a hand on one of Remus’s shoulders._

_Dog and wolf ran side by side, so close their fur seemed to weave together. Then, just a few feet from where the two boys stood, the canines stopped, turned, and looked directly at the humans._

_Remus froze. His entire being screamed contradictory impulses at him. He wanted desperately to move and place himself between Sirius and the werewolf, but his head told him to keep as still as possible, and hope against reason that they hadn’t been spotted, or, if they had, that as long as they didn’t make any sudden movements, the wolf wouldn’t attack._

_The werewolf’s nose twitched, as though scenting the wind. It took a step closer, and then another._

_Remus’s body twitched as he fought not to move, praying to anything listening that the wolf would leave them unharmed._

_The hand left Remus’s shoulder, and Sirius stepped out from behind him, moving towards the tawny animal._

_Remus’s heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. Petrified, he could only stand there and watch as Sirius and the werewolf approached each other._

_Sirius went down on one knee before the wolf, offering a hand, palm up, as though to a regular dog._

_Remus felt his eyes nearly start out of his head as, like a tame pet, the wolf gently sniffed the proffered palm, and gave it a tentative lick. Remus’s heart started pounding again as he managed to exhale and then fill his lungs properly once more._

_The black dog came up beside the wolf and nudged it with its nose. The wolf turned, and licked the dog’s snout. The two stood there for a moment, nose to nose, as though kissing._

_Sirius was suddenly back at Remus’s side, and, in a single smooth motion, he pulled the tawny-haired boy against him in an embrace, covering Remus’s mouth with his own._

_What felt like a moment later, the two boys were back in their dorm room, shirts gone, tumbling onto Remus’s bed, still kissing fiercely. Sirius hovered above the younger boy, bracing himself. Grey eyes looked into golden-brown._

_Something made Remus turn away, and, standing beside the bed, stood the dog and the wolf. Remus met the wolf’s eyes. Golden-brown met startling amber, and, in a shocking moment of clarity, Remus realized he looked at himself._

_Forgetting Sirius was braced above him, Remus sat up with a cry…_

The two boys never connected.

Remus was alone in his bed, sweating, heart pounding, breath ragged, staring around wildly in the dark. Searching… searching…

There was nothing. No wolf. No dog. No Sirius.

**TBC**


	3. One-Night Stand

Golden-brown eyes stared into the mirror, boring into their reflection.

_What is happening to me?_ Remus wondered desperately. He was pale and shaken from The Dream. It was haunting him. He’d had it five nights in a row, now: every night since That Night. Always the same. And he always woke up searching… searching… searching for _something_. He did not know what.

There were soft footsteps behind him, and Sirius’s reflection appeared beside his own.

“Tell me?” the dark-haired boy asked.

Remus turned his gaze from his own reflection to his friend’s.

Sirius stood slightly behind him, hair mussed and slightly bleary-eyed from sleep, clad only in a loose pair of sweatpants and a slightly worried expression. Remus wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean back against the taller boy, and his body swayed slightly even as his mind ordered it to stay upright.

Sirius placed a hand on one of Remus’s shoulders, steadying him. Remus could feel the heat of the older boy’s palm through the thin fabric of his tee-shirt, and he thrilled to the touch. The lethargy that had been permeating his entire being for the past five days seemed to vanish, but then Sirius pulled back as though he’d been stung, and the heavy, inexplicable weariness returned.

“I’m fine,” Remus managed insist, though his voice was no more than a murmur.

“You’re not fine!”

Remus flinched at the other boy’s vehemence.

Sirius bit his lip and looked down at his toes. “Look, I think…” he chewed his lip for a moment. If his eyes hadn’t been fixed on the ground, he would have seen the golden-brown stare riveted on his mouth as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I think,” he began again, still focusing on his feet, “I think we need to talk.”

“Talk?” _I thought we were going to pretend it never happened._

“About That Night,” Sirius clarified needlessly, not looking up.

“You said we should pretend nothing happened,” Remus reminded him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the other boy’s face instead of traveling across the tan, toned torso as they were so eager to do. It was easier to focus on the direction of his gaze than on the knife driving into his chest as he spoke.

“Remus, we… we had…” he trailed off.

“Sex.” Remus heard the dull sound of his own voice, and wondered again why he felt half dead.

A slight pink tinge crept into Sirius’s cheeks. “Well, yes.”

“You said we were drunk.” Remus’s voice was devoid of any hint of his inner turmoil. “You said to forget it.”

“Well, yes,” Sirius said again.

“You said we should pretend nothing happened,” Remus repeated, and somehow found the strength to push past the older boy, and out of the bathroom.

– – – – –

The library was silent. The phrase ‘like a grave’ echoed in Remus’s head as he sat in his usual window seat in the back of his sanctuary. The phrase struck him as morbidly apt; after all, he buried himself here often enough, it was what he was doing now, burying himself in the silent library. Like a grave. Bury the dead.

He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the driving snow. All he could see was white. The color of death.

His book was heavy in his lap: a book of chess strategies. He’d been wanting to read it for ages, and now that he had the time, he’d lost interest.

The grey-white light from the windows seemed surreal.

Remus stared down at his open book for a long moment, not really seeing it, then turned back to the window.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. The change in the light was barely noticeable, merely becoming more grey than white as the afternoon progressed.

Remus knew his dorm-mate was nearby moments before the other boy appeared around the bookcases. Strange. It was more like he’d _felt_ his friend’s approach than heard it. But that didn’t make any sense. He must just not have realized he’d heard the other’s footsteps.

“I knew you’d be here,” Sirius said without preamble. His voice echoed almost eerily in the stillness.

Remus forced himself to look away from the dark-haired boy, back towards the grey window. “I’m always here,” he agreed. Even his voice sounded dead.

“Well, yes, but…”

Something in Sirius’s voice made Remus turn back to face the grey-eyed boy. “But?” he prompted.

“Nothing,” Sirius muttered, looking down at the ground.

Remus waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. After a moment, he turned back to the weather.

“Did you want to go to dinner?” Sirius asked at last. “It’s getting late.”

“Sure,” Remus closed his book and stood. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew he should eat. “You should have gone earlier without me if you were hungry.”

“I wasn’t particularly hungry earlier,” Sirius admitted, leading the way out of the dim library.

Sirius, not hungry? Sirius was always hungry. It was as though the world had been turned on its head.

Lost in his thoughts, unsure why everything was so cockeyed, Remus didn’t realize Sirius had stopped walking until he crashed into the taller boy. He dropped his book, which fell open to the ground.

“Sorry,” both boys said at the same time.

Remus bent down to pick up his book. “Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“I need to talk to you…” Sirius began, but Remus wasn’t paying attention.

The younger boy was staring, riveted, at the book, hand still outstretched to retrieve it.

The book had opened to the first page of chapter thirteen: “Checking and Mating.”

“Rem? Are you okay?”

All at once, something clicked.

With a sudden burst of energy, Remus took off back the way they’d come, abandoning the book on the ground. He pounded down the hallways and around corners, exploding into the library mere seconds later. He skidded to a halt in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, scanning the reference labels on the ends of the shelves before darting down a row dedicated to dark creatures.

Heart pounding, Remus stopped near the end of the row, staring up at the tall case of books dedicated to the study of lycanthropy. He hadn’t looked at these books in years.

He took a deep breath, reached out, and pulled down a heavy, leather-bound tome. In the year following the revelation of his secret to his friends, Remus had spent a great deal of time reading about werewolves. He’d been too afraid to do it before, but once they knew – once he was sure he wouldn’t lose them – he’d tried to find out everything he could about his curse. This had been one of his favorite books at the time.

He sat on the floor, and carefully opened the book, skimming the contents, searching… searching…

Chapter forty-seven: “Mating Habits of Werewolves.”

He stared at the title for a long minute. He remembered skipping this chapter back in second year, completely uninterested – at the age of twelve – in ‘mating habits.’ Now he flipped to the page listed, and began to read.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

Remus lay awake in bed, staring up at the canopy. Words and phrases from the book he’d spent the evening poring over bounced around in his head, refusing to let him sleep.

_First time… sexual act… mate for life… symptoms… lethargy… telepathy… bonding… separation… refusal… death…_

Remus rolled onto his side and stared at the drawn curtains.

The book had explained everything. Werewolves mated for life.

Remus was a werewolf. Remus and Sirius had mated.

It sounded crude, even in Remus’s head. Humans didn’t mate. _Animals_ mated.

Unfortunately, Remus wasn’t human, no matter what his parents and friends told him. This new… development… only drove that point home. And worse, now he’d dragged Sirius into it as well.

The uncharacteristic behavior on both their parts, the lack of energy… it was the mating bond. They had mated, but because they hadn’t accepted it, there was a barrier between them. The bond was trying to break through, to tear down the wall, to assert itself, but it was only having limited luck. The result was the slow sapping of strength.

Remus rolled to his other side, punching his pillow to get it into the right shape.

They both had to accept the bond or else… or else nothing. There would be nothing. If they didn’t accept the bond, Remus would die. At least, that’s what it had sounded like from the text.

If Sirius accepted the bond, and something happened to Remus, it was likely that Sirius would not survive. If Sirius accepted, he would be tied to Remus for the rest of his life – heart, mind, body, and soul.

If Sirius refused, Remus wouldn’t survive the rejection.

And how could Remus ask for such a thing? How could he ask Sirius to give him his life?

Sirius had insisted more than once that true friends ought to be able to share anything. When Sirius had first told Remus he knew the smaller boy was a werewolf, he had commanded Remus to tell him if he ever needed something, and that anything that was Sirius’s was Remus’s as well. But asking to borrow a shirt or a spare quill was very different from asking for someone’s entire future.

With a groan, Remus rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. Lingering traces of a scent already several days old tickled the werewolf’s senses. Remus inhaled deeply: _Sirius_. Remus could smell the shampoo the other boy used, but also something stronger, more primal, something that was innately _Sirius_ , and the wolf recognized it instantly as the smell of its mate.

Remus groaned again, but this time, it came out part growl. For a moment wolf struggled with human, and Remus buried his head even farther into the pillow, breathing deeply.

The human didn’t want to force Sirius into anything, and feared that, if informed, the other boy would accept out of loyalty and for the sake of their friendship, or a feeling of responsibility, or pity. Remus couldn’t decide which would be worse, Sirius agreeing because he felt sorry for the poor dying werewolf, or Sirius agreeing because he felt he had to take responsibility – in the same way he would marry a girl if he knocked her up.

The wolf didn’t care about responsibility or pity or friendship, it just wanted its mate, and didn’t care how it got him.

If Remus was honest with himself – and if ever there was a time for honesty, this was it – his human side wanted Sirius as much as the wolf did, and he had no delusions about blaming the mating bond as the only cause of his… interest. But he couldn’t destroy Sirius’s life, even to save his own. He wouldn’t be the accidental pregnancy, the unwanted baby, the mistake. Sirius had a future, a real future, and Remus couldn’t be the one to take that away from him.

Slowly, mustering his determination, Remus rolled onto his back, away from the scent clinging to his pillow. The wolf fought, but the full moon wasn’t quite near enough to tip the balance in its favor, and the human will won.

Bitter tears began to leak from the corners of Remus’s eyes and he angrily shook them away, sitting up. He would not feel sorry for himself. Whatever the cost to himself, he would be saving Sirius. And he had no way of knowing for sure that rejecting the bond would mean the end for him. What did a book know, anyway?

He rubbed furiously at his eyes.

Even if it were true…

He bit his lip.

Would it be quick? Would he waste away? He felt like he was already wasting away. He felt dead. Would actual death feel like this? Should he leave a note of some kind, in case he simply collapsed? How long did he have? There were so many things he had wanted to do, so many things he had wanted to say… Especially to…

Everything was a blur, spinning around in his head so fast he couldn’t think straight. None of it seemed to matter anyway.

The wolf was howling, an angry, mournful sound.

Tears were still pouring from his eyes, but he barely noticed them anymore.

He’d always wanted to fly.

The stray thought floated up out of the whirlwind in his mind.

He was terrified of heights. He’d hated the flying lessons he’d been forced to take first year. He’d only gotten through Astronomy because it was too dark to see anything but the stars and planets through the telescopes, and he’d been looking up, not down.

But he’d always wanted to fly.

His friends flew. High. Fast. Away from their problems. Wind whipping their hair and robes.

He wanted to fly.

If the end was coming anyway, he might as well give flying a try.

Remus stood, oblivious to the salty streams now running freely down his face.

He had no broom of his own, so he opened Sirius’s trunk and took his. Unthinkingly, he grabbed a cloak as well, draping it around his shoulders over his pajamas. For a moment, with the trunk open and the borrowed cloak wrapped around him, Sirius’s scent almost overwhelmed him. But then he slammed the top down again, and left the room.

The faint fragrance clinging to the material drifted after him. It seemed to give him the strength to keep going.

His feet took him through the corridors and up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. At the top, it took him a moment to push the door open and struggle out into the wind. It was dark outside – the heavy cloud cover blocking the stars and the moon – and bitingly cold. The door slammed shut behind him and the wind hit full force, tearing through thin clothes and heavy cloak alike. Part of him wished he’d gotten properly dressed first, but the rest of him was past caring.

Clumsily, he threw one leg over his broom, and gripped the handle. He kicked off hard, and went hurtling into the dark grey sky.

The wind torrents buffeted him this way and that, trying to rip him from the flimsy stick he clung to. He was terrified, but in a dull sort of way. Even his fear of flying didn’t mean anything anymore.

Snow began to fall, and he was quickly soaked through. His entire body was numb, but he hardly noticed. It seemed to fit.

_Maybe I should just let go,_ he thought vaguely. _End it now, quickly, when I won’t feel the pain. If I fall, there won’t be a rejection to hurt me, and there won’t be a rejection to hurt Sirius. Even if the bond is rejected, it might hurt him. I could just let go now, and it would all be over._

_REMUS!_

Remus jerked, and almost lost his grip on the broom. That was Sirius’s voice. Where was it coming from?

_REMUS!_

Frantically, Remus looked left, right, everywhere. He could see nothing.

_REMUS! WHERE ARE YOU?_

There! On the black lump that was the Astronomy Tower, at the very top, near the door, was a tiny shadow of a figure that might be a person. But there was no way that Remus would be able to hear that person, even with an amplification charm.

_Remus! Come back!_

The voice was softer, but just as persistent, and, in the quieter tone, there was a trace of fear. Remus suddenly realized that the sound was coming from inside his own head.

_Am I insane?_ Remus wondered, a dull sort of dread trying to worm its way into his mind.

_…telepathy…_

The book! The book had mentioned telepathy!

So it really was Sirius talking inside Remus’s head, not just a voice that sounded like him.

_Sirius?_ he asked, wondering if the other boy would hear him.

_Remus?_ The response was immediate and now clearly panic-stricken. _Remus, come back! Where are you? I’m on top of the Tower. I can’t see you. I know you’re nearby, but I can’t see you! Come back!_

Almost as though the broom were listening to its master’s thoughts, Remus suddenly found himself heading for the Tower.

He landed and stumbled off the broom, nearly falling. Sirius caught him, strong arms holding him up.

“You’re soaked,” Sirius’s rough voice said in Remus’s ear. “You must be freezing.”

But despite the bone-deep chill and lack of feeling in his numb legs, Remus felt more alive than he had in days. Sirius’s arms around him had suddenly sparked something deep within him and it felt _wonderful_.

Sirius half-led, half-carried Remus back inside, down the stairs, and back to the common room.

Remus collapsed onto one of the couches, exhaustion hitting him again in a wave.

Sirius brought the fire back to life with a quick flick of his wand, then summoned a blanket which he tucked firmly around the drenched werewolf, taking the dripping cloak and laying it in front of the flames to dry.

“Feeling better?” Sirius asked.

“What?” Remus, whose eyes had been drifting closed, blinked at the black-haired boy crouched before him.

“That’s why you took my broom,” Sirius said, gesturing towards the broom leaning against the end of the couch. “Isn’t it?”

Remus frowned, trying to think. “How did you –”

“Know?” Sirius shrugged. “I just did. Here,” he tapped his chest. “I knew you were upset, more so than earlier, and I knew you’d gone up to the Tower. And then,” his brow furrowed, as though he were puzzled, “and then I could hear bits of thoughts that sounded like your voice, here,” he tapped his head, “but it was fuzzy, like the Wizarding Wireless is when you try to listen to it behind the barriers Hogwarts has up.” He frowned suddenly. “Were you trying to kill yourself?” his tone indicated he was convinced he must be mistaken.

Remus didn’t reply, merely shut his eyes again.

“Remus?” Sirius’s tone was once again tinged with something akin to panic. “Remus?”

Remus said nothing.

_Remus!_ Sirius’s voice now blared inside Remus’s skull, and he couldn’t avoid it. _Answer me, damn it!_

“ _Yes!_ ” Remus shouted, aloud and in Sirius’s mind. Even with his eyes screwed up tight, he knew Sirius had winced.

“Why?” Sirius’s spoken voice was soft. “Why would you even think of doing something like that?”

“It would have been easier for both of us,” Remus said, voice even softer than Sirius’s.

“I don’t understand.”

A gentle hand smoothed Remus’s hair back from his face, and a wave of emotion rolled off of Sirius towards Remus, comforting… caring… loving.

Remus’s eyes flew open. In a single motion, he was off the couch and pounding up the spiral staircase. He stormed to his bed and snatched the fateful book off the bedside table where he’d left it.

Sirius was standing in the doorway, having followed him up the stairs. His expression was bewildered and most un-Sirius-like.

“There!” Remus shoved the book forcefully at Sirius. “There!” he said again. “It’s all there!”

“Rem, I don’t –”

“Everything that’s happened, everything we’ve felt. You inside my head. Me inside yours.”

“What are you –”

“It’s why you think you… _care_ … for me.” Remus’s lip threatened to begin trembling. He bit down so hard he felt the skin break.

“What –”

“I felt it just now. Downstairs. From you. You think you… _care_. You don’t know why, but you do. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“It’s my fault.” Remus bit down again on his lip, and was almost glad of the pain.

“Your fault?”

“After we…” Remus swallowed. “After we had sex, that next morning, when we woke up together, and neither of us could remember what had happened, and you asked if I was sore… I said yes. And the reason I was, was because I’d never had sex with anyone else.”

“I don’t –”

“You were my first, Siri. You were my first, and I’m a werewolf.”

Sirius stared at him, as though not comprehending.

Remus took a deep breath. This was it. He hadn’t wanted to tell Sirius, but now he had to, and this was it. “Werewolves mate for life, Sirius.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt it needed to be warned for, for safety reasons, but Remus is _not_ suicidal. He's just very confused and not thinking clearly.


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius continued to stare at Remus.

For a long moment the silence was so thick in the air Remus was hazily surprised it hadn’t suffocated them both.

Then Sirius turned abruptly on his heel, the book still clutched in his arms, and walked out.

Remus stared after him. It took nearly a full minute before he registered the sinking feeling in his stomach.

_What have I done?_ he thought. His legs curled up under him of their own free will and he sank to the ground in a graceless heap.

He bit into his lip again and the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth even as his eyes overflowed.

_What have I done? What have I done? What am I going to do? What have I done? What have I done?_

He’d lost his best friend, the one person he cared most about. The one person he loved.

The wolf had lost its mate.

But the wolf wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

Remus surged to his feet, human will fighting the wolf once more, but, this time, the already half-defeated human was losing.

He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew he had to find Sirius. He _would_ find Sirius. The wolf would find Sirius.

He swiped angrily at the mingled tears and blood on his face and left the room, feet carrying him down the stairs, across the common room, and out into the hall beyond.

He knew where Sirius was. He felt it in his heart, in his blood. The wolf _knew_.

His legs stretched into a long stride, not quite running, but covering the ground at a steady lope. Through the dark, silent castle he went, feeling the tug in his veins.

He was in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy before he even realized he was on the seventh floor. He stared blankly for a moment at the trolls in tutus before turning to face the door in the opposite wall.

Sirius was inside. Remus knew it. The wolf knew it. And Sirius _wanted_ Remus to find him, or there would be no door.

Despite this knowledge, Remus hesitated, hand outstretched towards the brass doorknob.

_What can I say to him? Will he even want to listen? Will he say anything? What will he say? Will he tell me he hates me? Does he hate me? Will he never want to see me again? What am I even doing here?_

The wolf growled, and Remus grabbed the handle, turned, and pulled the door open, completely unsure what he would see.

What he did see confused him as much as it surprised him.

The Room of Requirement looked very much like the seventh year boys’ dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. There was only one bed, but it was an exact replica of the beds in the dorm, complete with heavy red draperies. There was a thick red carpet covering the floor, and a fire burned brightly in the grate.

As Remus entered, Sirius rose from the red armchair that had been placed in front of the fireplace.

The dark-haired boy stepped around the chair and moved towards the center of the room. He was still cradling the book Remus had shoved at him.

The quiet _thud_ of the door closing sounded like a canon. The crackling fire was almost deafening.

“You came,” Sirius said simply, voice soft.

“You wanted me to.” Remus said it as a statement, but wondered if it should be a question.

The tension in the room was almost palpable.

Remus suppressed a shiver.

Sirius moved closer, his movements measured and precise, almost as though _he_ were a wolf, stalking its pray.

Remus couldn’t decipher the expression on the other boy’s face, nor could he get any sort of emotional reading through the bond. _Did he reject it, then?_ Remus wondered, feeling sick and rather frightened. Not knowing what else to do, he waited for Sirius to speak.

After a moment, Sirius’s head cocked slightly to one side. His voice, when he spoke, was unreadable. “What you said before, why did you say it?”

“It was the truth.”

“It was the truth?”

“You know I don’t lie. Not when it’s important. Not to you.” _How could he think I would make something like this up? He’s felt the effects of it himself. He told me as much._

“I’m not sure I understand,” Sirius said quietly.

_What else is there to say?_ Remus wondered. _How can I make him see?_ “I –” he began.

Sirius cut him off. “You said you were sorry.”

Unsure what Sirius was getting at – and half-terrified of finding out – Remus nodded. _What does that have to do with understanding what’s going on?_

“You said it was your fault.”

Again, Remus nodded.

“But you don’t remember anything.”

“I –” Remus said again, and stopped. He blinked, trying to think. It was hard. His memory of That Night didn’t want to function properly. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted at last. Vague feelings, bits and pieces, brief flashes. Tempting. Tantalizing. Taunting. Nothing solid. Nothing he could call a proper memory.

Sirius nodded his head once, twice, and seemed to clutch a little harder at the book clasped in his arms. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth as though to speak, and let the breath out.

Remus waited.

Sirius took another deep breath and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I remember,” he said so quietly Remus was sure he hadn’t heard properly.

“What?”

“I remember,” Sirius said, louder this time. He tore his eyes from the carpet and looked into Remus’s face. “I remember everything.”

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

Remus was speechless for what felt like an eternity. When he at last found his voice, he managed to stutter out, “You-you _remember_?”

Sirius nodded, clutching the book even tighter.

“But… but you said… you said you didn’t remember anything. You said you drank more than usual and didn’t remember anything.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know what else to say.”

“The truth?”

“I panicked. I didn’t want you to think I had taken… advantage. _I_ didn’t want to think I had taken advantage. It was easier to pretend. Then James and Peter came back upstairs and you looked so terrified. I thought it best if we didn’t tell them, at least not until _we_ ’d figured ourselves out, and we could always use the excuse that we were drunk if it bothered you so much. We could pretend it never happened, or we could tell them it didn’t mean anything and then pretend we’d forgotten all about it. Whatever happened between us could stay between us. No need for anyone else to get involved if you didn’t want them to be. And as for what to tell you… I tried talking to you. You didn’t want to talk. I assumed you were angry, but I didn’t know why. I wasn’t sure if it was something I’d done, if I’d hurt you… You said I hadn’t, and you didn’t seem hurt, so I believed that. I wondered if you were angry because I _did_ take advantage. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I’d hoped the words would come to me somehow. You couldn’t remember anything. You still can’t. What was I supposed to say?”

_Does it matter?_ “I don’t know what this has to do with –”

“I _remember_ , Remus. I remember everything. And I _knew_.”

“What?” Remus felt as though he’d come to a crossroad and wasn’t sure which direction to take, or even where he was coming from. “You knew? Knew what?”

“You’re a werewolf, Rem,” Sirius said urgently. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t have found out everything I could as soon as I knew?”

“I don’t –”

“I’ve known for years that werewolves mate for life.”

“You’ve known –”

“It’s why I never did anything.”

“Did anything?”

“I didn’t want to trap you.”

“Trap _me_?”

“I didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for. We’re so young. I knew I wanted to be with you, I don’t know how, I just _knew_. But I didn’t know if you were ready for that, and I didn’t want you to have to decide so soon. But then that night…”

“That Night,” Remus echoed. His head was whirling. _What’s happening?_

“That Night,” Sirius repeated. “That night I was drunk, and we started playing those stupid games, and spin the bottle was _my_ idea, because after I kissed you in the first game I wanted to do it again, and I didn’t think I could keep dropping the card without looking suspicious, and we kissed again, and when you kissed James I just wanted to hit him – and he’s practically my brother! – so I used a spell to rig the bottle when you spun so we’d kiss again, and then the game ended, and I kept kissing you, and I convinced you to come back up here, and –”

“Stop,” Remus put up a hand. This was too much to take in all at once. “Wait.” He blinked a few times, trying to arrange his thoughts. It was useless. After a moment, he gave up and nodded, still hopelessly muddled, but feeling a strange desire to hear the rest of the sordid tale.

“I convinced you to come back up here,” Sirius said again, “and… I’m so sorry, Rem, I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t mean to… to _seduce_ you. I just wanted… I don’t know what I wanted. I wanted _you_. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I just couldn’t _stop_. I still want you.”

“You still –”

“And earlier, when you left me in the hall, when you dropped that book, I saw the chapter title, and I realized you must not have realized what had happened. I hadn’t really understood what was going on the last few days, but I had assumed it had to do with the mating bond, and I was afraid you were angry with me. I never thought you didn’t know about it! I was just wandering around the castle, worrying about what to do, what to say. I realized something wasn’t right. I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then I felt you when you were up on the Astronomy Tower, and I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. And then up in the dorm, you kept saying you were sorry, and it would have been easier if you’d died, and I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t sure why you were saying that! So I came here. I needed to think. And I looked at the book – at the chapter that explains everything – and I saw – I’d forgotten all about… _Are you trying to reject the bond_?”

“Am I what?”

“The bond! I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I didn’t think _you_ could reject it. I didn’t realize the werewolf was given the same choice as the human. I’m still not sure _why_ you’d _want_ to reject it, but I can’t think of any other explanation.”

“You’re the one rejecting it…” Remus began, but even as the words left his mouth he realized that they weren’t true.

Sirius was shaking his head. “No.”

“You’re not rejecting it.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’d accepted it long before I even had a choice to make,” Sirius whispered. “Long before I even knew there might be something to accept.”

“Then I…” Remus closed his eyes, bringing up a hand to rub them. “How is that possible?” he asked himself aloud.

“Do you have any… reservations?” Sirius’s voice broke into Remus’s thoughts.

“What?” the brunet let his hand drop back to his side, eyes opening slowly to look at the taller boy.

“Reservations. About the bond. That might explain why you haven’t accepted it.”

“But I…” Remus stopped. _Reservations._ “Yes,” he admitted in a low voice.

“Yes?” the dark-haired boy questioned.

Golden-brown eyes met grey. “You said you didn’t want to trap me. But don’t you see, _I’m_ the one who has trapped _you_? _I’m_ the werewolf. I’ve been in love with you for so long, but even before I knew about the… the mating bond… I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You’re my best friend. And so much more than that to me. How could I do that to you? And now this… this _thing_ … I can’t ask you to give up your life for me.”

“You’re in love with me? You were before we…”

“Had sex?” Remus quirked a brow, somehow finding Sirius’s reluctance to say the words amusing in spite of everything.

Sirius flushed slightly. “Yes.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it, Sirius.”

Sirius’s flush darkened. “Thank you, _Evans_.”

Remus’s lips twitched in a valiant effort to smile, but the situation fought back. “Yes, I’m in love with you. I have been for years. I suppose there’s no use fighting that anymore. Can’t you see it in my mind anyway?”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“How can I ask you to give up everything for me?”

“Who says I’m giving up anything?”

“What?”

“Rem, _you_ are everything.” The book fell to the ground as Sirius closed the distance between them, catching Remus’s face between his now-empty palms. “You are my life. How could you even think of asking me to give _you_ up?”

“How can I –”

Sirius rested his forehead against the brunet’s. “It’s not your decision to make,” he whispered.

Remus shuddered at the feel of his companion’s heated breath washing over him.

“The only decision _you_ have to make,” Sirius continued, “is: do you want to be with me?”

Remus met the grey eyes that were so close to his own.

_Be honest,_ Sirius’s voice murmured in Remus’s mind.

_Yes,_ Remus thought. _Yes, I want to be with you. I_ need _to be with you._

_Then be with me._

Remus nodded slightly, and closed the last few centimeters that separated them, sealing his lips to Sirius’s as his eyes fluttered shut.

All in an instant, the weight that had been pressing down on Remus since That Night was gone, vanished into thin air… into the past.

Teeth nipped gently at Remus’s bottom lip, and Remus couldn’t suppress the groan that was building inside him. He pushed closer to the other boy, arms twining around his companion’s waist, holding him tight. The hands framing Remus’s face moved into his hair, one sliding around to cup the nape of the brunet’s neck as the kiss deepened.

_Love you,_ the thought drifted from Sirius’s mind to Remus’s.

_Love_ you _,_ Remus thought back, then all thoughts vanished as he dissolved into kissing his mate.

**End.**


End file.
